


Think Pink

by workedupoverwhelmed (overworkedunderwhelmed)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up AU, Burns of Questionable Speeds, Eventually resolved audience tension, Except they are both clueless, F/M, Masturbation, Mysteries revealed, Oops, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, We found the sin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-01 10:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13293024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overworkedunderwhelmed/pseuds/workedupoverwhelmed
Summary: When the years haven't revealed one mystery Adrien so desperately fought to understand, he turns to a rather unlikely source for help.





	1. Chatmouflage

**Author's Note:**

> Trying something new here. This started as a line and a crack fic idea...but really stuck in my head. With major thanks to Enberlight for prodding/enabling this one into being. (Also for beta reading!) :D

Plagg nearly choked on his Camembert. “You want me to _what_?”

Adrien inhaled, steeling himself for the inevitable as the effects of the mild hangover slowly ebbed from his system. “You can change the costume, right?”

Piercing green eyes leveled an assessing gaze. “Of course. That isn’t really in issue here. What I want to know is why?”

Adrien flopped back into his chair, fingers drifting up to massage the ache from his temples. He’d been downing water like it was going out of style, but he was still feeling the effects of the night before. 

He should have known that Plagg was going to make this difficult for him. It wasn’t like it had been easy over these past few years. Little by little, he thought he’d been making progress with his friend.

It was Alya words -- three drinks into the night in the middle of a crowded club -- that had thrown all of that into question.

Even now, the details were hazy enough that he couldn’t remember his friend’s exact words, as she had smirked back at him. But he’d remembered the question that plagued him now in vivid detail.

For years now, he had tried for so long to let it slide off his back. Modelling for years for his father made him self-assured enough and unaffected by much of the back-biting within the industry.

Marinette was so kind to everyone, so fiercely protective of all her friends.

So why was it that she kept him at arms length? She’d even let his own alter ego far closer than she’d ever let him as Adrien. Whenever he had set a hand on her shoulder, she would tense up. As someone who had always been fairly tactile, that grated at his conscience. After that, he’d been quick to give her space, to hold himself back as he didn’t want her to be any more uncomfortable.

But, now he needed to know. He had been up for hours, tossing and turning, puzzling just what it was that he might have done. Why it was that he could have such close friendships with the whole rest of their class, but not with one of his best female friends?

Raking his fingers through his hair, he sat up straight, focusing back on his kwami. Maybe he hadn’t been able to figure all this out in several years of school. It just meant he’d just have to do this another way. 

“There is something I need to figure out. And I kind of need to be able to blend in.”

Snorting, Plagg chewed noisily. “When does Black not blend in, kid?”

Adrien sighed, lifting his eyebrows towards the vaulted ceiling. “When I need to visit a friend who has a very pink room.”

* * *

It had taken nearly everything he had to keep from loudly guffawing into the bedroom. It seems the kid had finally let his curiosity get the better of him.

Plagg’s eyes narrowed. As much as he approved of the idea to wreak havoc on Adrien’s fairly staid social life, he wasn’t fond of what the kid seemed to be proposing. “You want me to turn you pink?”

Adrien groaned. “Not all the time. Just to go over and visit her.” 

"Pigtails, huh." Nibbling his cheese thoughtfully, Plagg pondered aloud. “Don’t you see her all the time?”

“I do.” Blond brows arched. “But Plagg, I’m trying to figure out why Marinette has a problem with me.”

“You have problems enough.” The kwami scoffed. “ I am not turning you into a pink pussy...or helping you get in one."

The kid blanched before immediately turning beet red. With a wicked grin, Plagg marveled just how much Adrien's jaw had dropped. The kid didn’t need magical assistance to turn pink after all.

Adrien eventually found his voice, his face buried into his hands. “T-that’s not what this is about, Plagg!”

Tilting his head, Plagg murmured. “Isn’t it? Pink doesn’t exactly strike fear in the heart of butterflies. It isn’t exactly going to inspire stubborn young women to share their secrets.”

“That’s just it. She isn’t supposed to _see_ me.”

“So you just want to sneak in?” Plagg scowled. “And do what exactly?”

“Just...listen.” The kid paced the hardwood floor. “Something Alya said gave me the idea. She had mentioned that Marinette sometimes talks in her sleep...and then Alya spent the rest of the night grinning at me meaningfully. I figure if I can just hang out there for a while, I might catch enough of a hint of what had Alya so riled up.” 

“She’s got a secret. So -- might I remind you -- do you.”

Adrien halted, his eyes pitifully kittenish. “I might never have a chance like this again, Plagg. There are only a few weeks before University now, and I don’t know if Marinette is headed to University housing or not. And if I am to succeed in University, I need to understand why she’s always kept her distance.”

Plagg sighed. “Kid, if you’re serious...this is going to cost you.”


	2. Chat Rose

Chat Noir was never more glad for his long history of highly paid employment. He’d be able to cover Plagg’s nasty Camembert habit -- and all the extra for this new request -- without worrying about losing the Gabriel labelled shirt off his back.

And it had taken the better part of the day to scrounge up enough cheese to meet his kwami’s rather ridiculous demands.

Before he had transformed into his usual suit to dash across the Paris skyline unseen, Plagg had assured him that he’d only need to modify a few of the settings on via his baton to initiate the change.

Plagg insisted that the temporary suit adjustment required more energy to maintain, so his own contribution to the feed the hungry black cat kwami fund was a necessity in order to be well worth the added cost.

Which he finally decided to try after he had safely landed on Marinette’s balcony.

He took a breath, sliding his thumb over the pad of the green pawmark. In the rush of green light, his suit turned a distinctly (ob)noxious bright, bubblegum pink.

He was Chat _Rose_ , for certain. 

He frowned down at his now pink claws. He’d remembered Marinette’s room was pink, but he wasn’t sure it was actually anywhere near this shade in her room. Or at least anywhere near what it might look like this late in the evening.

If the years had taught him anything, it was that Marinette was surprisingly good at keeping secrets. Even when he had mentioned something potentially incriminating to her in the handful of times he had come to her aid as Chat Noir, not even the slightest whisper would get back to Alya and appear on her blog.

All he had to do was be patient -- to wait for Marinette to be asleep --to steal in her room by moonlight and ask her why. If Alya was to be believed, she didn't keep her lips locked as tight when drowsy. 

Pink claws gripped the skylight hatch and tensed. Even now, Chat Noir still wasn’t entirely comfortable with going inside Marinette’s room without an invitation, even if she had invited him inside more than once before -- with or without the claws. But needs must.

Finding out the key to making new friends in lycee had been great, but Marinette was proof that something was very clearly still eluding him.

He wanted to be able to hug her just as he did with Alya and Nino without fear of making her uncomfortable. And this set up certainly wasn’t ideal. But it wasn’t like he could ask Alya to find out for him.

Alya was sweet, but she was also incredibly loud. With something so clearly making Marinette uncomfortable, he wasn’t sure she would always exercise caution, especially since Marinette had been so keen on keeping this secrecy.

He shook his head. This was the best way.

One longer than usual canine bit into his bottom lip. He could find out how to act to help her be more at ease around him, and she’d never need to know he’d gone to extra lengths to make the effort.

Through the barely opened hatch, Chat Noir gazed into the darkened room. Even in the night he could see the soft and dusky pink on the walls and her bed below.

Her empty bed.

Frowning, he lifted the hatch open all the more, letting more of the cool air rush in as he scanned through the darkness. The rustle of cloth and her soft and steady breaths perked his ears first, before --finally-- he’d spotted the dark-clad figured cuddled into the chaise.

Blinking he watched for a few tense moments, anxious to confirm she was well and truly asleep before he dared to move.

Extending his baton, he did what Chat Noir did best -- and recklessly dropped in.

* * *

Teeth clenched, Chat Noir leveraged his baton to slowly ease the hatch into place with a quiet snick, before depressing the green paw print that retracted his baton small enough to holster.

He winced, lightening his steps at the slightest creak on the floorboards might give him away.

Chat stood stock still, uncertain as Marinette shuffled in her sleep. He was so afraid he would actually wake her up, effectively ensuring that he could never find out what so bothered her.

His eyes darted down to her sleeping face, not daring to breathe easier until he heard the soft but steady exhale. 

His shoulders relaxed as he exhaled himself. Unfortunately for his faltering composure, his eyes wandered, catching a bit of her stomach peeking out from under her sleep shirt, which looked like black satin with pink polka dots. 

He’d known she was slim, but for as tiny as she was, Marinette was surprisingly muscular.

Part of him cursed his excellent night vision. This sort of knowledge about his friend felt vaguely uncomfortable.

As he shifted to snag the quilt from her bed and lay it over her sleeping form, he tripped into the chaise, howling softly as his shin hit the harder wooden frame. 

“Chat?” Marinette’s drowsy, low whisper acted as a shock to his system.

His green eyes grew wide, before he slammed them shut, claws plastered in front of his mouth to muffle any further sound. Glowing green would definitely stand out in the dark.

She grew quiet, brows only slightly furrowed, her teeth chattering slightly from the chill in the air.

The cold he’d let inside behind him.

Feeling a little guilty, his eyes peered open as he shifted forward, leaning just barely onto the chaise beside her. “You alright there, Princess?” He’d murmured, not really expecting an answer.

He’d been properly knocked back onto the floor after he’d gotten one after all.

Of all the things he might have expected, Marinette tugging him forward by the bell until her lips locked with his had not even ranked as possible on his list.


	3. Tension

Marinette closed the door behind her after she’d come home from lunch. Her eyes slammed shut as she collapsed back against the door.

At the start of the summer, Alya had pressed her into agreeing to get out of the house each day. They both knew she’d be sketching and sewing until the late hours and forgetting about the rest of life without some sort of normal routine to keep her balanced.

She just hadn’t really expected the boys to be there, too.

Her fingertips drifted down to the bridge of her nose, before her eyes opened and turned skyward. 

Maybe it was from the long line of later than usual nights. Maybe it was from the near constant celebration that Alya had insisted upon after their graduation the week prior. Maybe it was the long laundry list of work she’d planned to get done on her portfolio over the summer.

Or maybe...just maybe...it was because the boy she’d spent most of her years in school pining over had started blushing a brilliant pink in her presence.

Right after she’d had another one of her infernal steamy dreams about her partner. 

* * *

“So.” Nino grinned as they walked towards the car. “Marinette?”

Adrien sighed. He knew it was coming after all. No matter what he’d done, he hadn’t been able to stop blushing since he’d left her house last night.

And it had been good to get out of the house, even if he’d spent the whole of the meal with his fingers pressed over his lips, trying desperately to keep his eyes from her own lips.

He was still in shock, even after all these hours. He hadn’t been all that quick to free himself from her embrace -- if she woke up, he had no doubt he’d be one dead cat. 

Even if it had been Chat Noir’s name she’d spoke while she slept.

“I’m not sure what you mean…”

“Really?” He wasn’t even looking, be he could tell from that tone that NIno’s eyes had narrowed. “That’s how you’re going to play this? Even if I didn’t have Alya elbowing me and pointing every few minutes, I would have noticed.”

Adrien glared down at his bag, coughing to cover the chuckle he’d definitely heard from his Kwami. From the moment he’d de-transformed, Plagg had been merciless, chuckling about how his luck at Chat Rose had somehow been even worse than usual. At least until he had fallen asleep himself.

“I’m not _playing_ anything.” Adrien muttered. “I just don’t know what to make of this.”

“This?”

“The last time I saw Marinette she kind of...said something that surprised me.”

Nino chuckled. “And it’s gotten you this messed up?”

He nodded, ruefully as he stopped in his tracks, far enough from his bodyguard’s hearing. “I just...don’t know what to make of it. And I’m not even sure she realized what she said.”

Nino sighed, tugging off his cap. “Damn. So this can’t get back to Alya.”

Adrien’s lips pressed into a thin line, his cheeks paling. “Ideally, not.”

“I hope you figure this one out soon, dude.”

“Me, too.”

* * *

Marinette sighed, staring back down at the blank page before flopping back onto her bed. Were this any other day, she’d have had a few pages of drawings at least to choose from.

But today, she’d spend the few hours since lunch mired in her doubts about Adrien -- and about Chat Noir.

She’d spent the last few months simply coming to terms with the fact that things with Adrien were kind of hopeless. Years of nothing but only the friendliest interactions -- despite copious hints from both Alya and Nino -- had brought no real change.

But her leather clad partner? The one who’d been at her side all along. The one who shot her glances had left her to melt, when she’d allowed herself to remember them. Glances she had gotten very good at pretending she hadn’t noticed. But after so many years, there could be no more doubt left in her mind that Chat Noir, who'd been over the moon for her all along, was starting to hold real appeal.

Not that she could ever act on it. The masks. The suits. Their duty. All of it would get in the way.

To her core, she'd always been hopeful. Between her own instincts and Tikki’s encouragement, she couldn't quite shake the certainty that _something_ would work out for her...she just wasn't sure what something actually was. And she only grew less certain by the day.

Even after Hawkmoth was unmasked -- and de-powered -- another villain had been quick to take his place. Any hopes she might have harbored for hanging up the spots and perhaps meeting her longtime partner outside of "office hours" looked to be equally as unlikely.

But here in the privacy of her own room, in the darkest hours of night, she had started to let her mind wander. At least in dreams, her brain had been more than willing to stir up a myriad of far too compelling solutions involving one certain cool cat. Her hormones certainly weren't content to leave well enough alone.

And at least, to this degree, the inevitable mess was far more manageable.

This morning, before Tikki had been up and moving to notice, she’d hauled out of bed, darting for her shower. She had tossed everything she had on into a laundry bag for this afternoon, promising her parents she’d take care of little things around the house in exchange for the privacy to work on her art. 

But that laundry was currently still waiting. 

At least, it was no small mercy in that is allowed her to hide away all visible evidence of her errant affections.

* * *

“Omihgawd, girl. And that wasn’t even the best part.” Alya grinned as she slumped back into the couch, her arm tossed over her head. 

Marinette smiled a little too wide as she tipped the rest of her glass of red wine up over her lips. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in how her best friend was enjoying her summer vacation. It was more that she attempting to force herself to drown out the more graphic details of Alya...gushing.

Alya had never been particularly shy in doling out the information, but in the past few months the descriptions had gotten a little more detailed. She wasn’t sure whether Alya had just lost her ability to filter with copious amounts of wine in the wake of her mother’s amazing dinner or if she was half trying to help to educate her poor, hopeless friend.

The only trouble was, Alya didn’t know just how hopeless her situation was. How hopeless _she_ was.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair. She and Alya had spent years talking at length about her hopes for Adrien. And Alya knew all too well how her mind thrived in spilling out imaginatively hopeful and dire scenarios, depending on the day.

But the Chat Noir of it all? That was new...and not the easiest thing to explain to her Ladyblogging best friend just how much she’d interacted with him over the years. Not without explaining just how much she’d been holding out on her.

There was no one else more intimately familiar with just how well that suit hung on his frame. Or how the muscles of his shoulders had subtly broadened over the years of their partnership.

Every knew well the destructive power he held in his hands, but not the real power he held back in gentling those same claws, so they barely pricked at anyone’s skin. He’d rescued her more than once as herself, so she’d seen that care firsthand. But it was enough for her to notice he was just the same while she was superpowered. 

Her suit was built to take whatever abuse a villain could muster. Outside of a few particularly close calls when his own will had been turned, he was unfailingly gentle. He’d only ever come close to that edge when circumstances grew desperate, when he was the only thing keeping them both from a long and speedy descent back to Earth.

But once the danger had passed, without fail, his hands would grow gentle. As gentle as the soft glow in his eyes as he drew within inches of her face, searching her eyes with some unvoiced plea as he reassured himself she was hale and whole.

“Then Nino went down on me--”

“Oh.” Blinking, Marinette gasped as the picture in her mind took a much different turn.

She snagged the bottle to pour herself another glass, hoping it would quiet her overactive imagination.

* * *

Alya frowned when Marinette headed home a little early. She’d seemed a little down earlier, and could use any good excuse to get out of her house. 

It only occurred to her after her father had offered to walk Marinette back home that she’d spent most of her time here talking about her relationship with Nino. 

Her palm slapped to her forehead with the realization. It must have been why she had gotten so withdrawn. Marinette was feeling like the third wheel.

And after she and Nino had both been so careful. 

Downing a glass of water, Alya hunted for her cellphone.

Mari had gotten really quiet about Adrien just before they had graduated. She was sure her courseload would make it really hard to hang out too much, especially considering her University was on the other side of town. 

It was actually kind of fascinating that only after Marinette seemed to realize that she had to let him go that Adrien’s awareness of her had hit with a vengeance.

Why else would he have spent the whole of lunch, blushing and trying not to look Marinette in the eye?

She shook her head, pulling up his number.

* * *

Adrien frowned at the message from Ayla.

“I think Marinette had a rough day. Mind reaching out and seeing if she wants to game?” 

Plagg chuckled from over his shoulder. “I don’t think you’re ready for what that girl can dish out, kid?”

“But I can’t get over there anyways.” He sighed, “At least not as myself. Nathalie has me scheduled for an early morning shoot.”

“And your father has been installing even more cameras inside the house.” Plagg agreed. “But that doesn't change my point.”

Adrien’s brows furrowed. “Marinette is my friend. Of course I want to help her.”

“And if she... _attacks_ you again?”

He blushed, ruffling the hair at the nape of his neck. “That had to be a fluke. She didn't act any differently during lunch today.”

Cramming a good chunk of Camembert into he mouth, Plagg rolled his eyes, waiting for the inevitable tug of magic into the ring. 

It was official. This age was the worst.

* * *

There was one, truly nice thing about having the Kwami of creation on your side. She understood the value of privacy. 

(Although it had been one painfully awkward day, when she’d decided to pointedly ask for it.)

It probably hadn’t hurt once she’d started to strategically place cookies in the kitchen, especially considering the early hour her parents retired for the night to accommodate their early wake up time.

Despite the fair bit of wine still coursing through her system after Alya’s dad headed back home, She’d had just enough presence of mind to pop down to the shop to grab a few of the day old stock.

It had been a terribly unproductive day. The time with her friends was lovely -- even while Alya had been filling her ears with far too many technically impossible ideas -- but she needed to be moving forward.

With a sigh, Marinette turned the light off and climbed into bed. She would have to make do with whatever inspiration she could.

Or at least whatever relief.

* * *

Chat Noir might have talked a big game with Plagg, but the sprint towards Marinette’s house had left him nervous, pausing on one of the few big, open rooftops in between. 

It had been hard enough just trying to be a little normal during the day with her.

But she wouldn’t have any way to know that he knew her little secret.

And her apparent crush showed surprisingly good taste. 

He had vacillated, wondering if he ought to de-transform on the way over and call her as himself. And there was a chance that might even work, if Plagg was willing to quietly sit by while he played video games with Marinette. 

He definitely hadn’t brought enough cheese to deal with Plagg’s demands for subsequent transformations.

Ultimately, he’d opted to come as he was.

To be fair, it was probably the only real chance he’d had to give her a competitive run for her money on UMS IV.

Far more certain, Chat Noir scrambled over the rooftops. He was never more sure of his decision as he’d lightly dropped onto her rooftop balcony.

Only to hear her gasp his name.

Flinching, his gaze darted down to the hatch door below. Chat’s shoulders tensed, his ears stood alert, waiting.

_‘Is she in trouble?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting there. Subtly kicks up the rating.


	4. Blush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Up  
> Audience: Warned  
> Author: Blushing at the first smut she's written in...
> 
> Let's not think about how long, shall we.
> 
> Please note the tags!

In the quiet dark, Marinette laid out her bed like a sketchbook in her mind. Her fingers lazily tracing the path that the Adrien of her imagination wove from the pulse of her neck to her navel and back again, committing the idea to the page in her mind’s eye.

Adrien was gentle, kindhearted, and even a bit uncertain, very much as he had been on that first day...and nearly every one since.

For a while, that softer, sweeter hope was enough, as her fingertips skated across her skin, teasing and touching.

But in her mind’s eye, much like in reality, Adrien never pushed those boundaries. He was just too kind and respectful. Even when spinning her around the dance floor, his hands had only lingered lower after Alya’s daring had placed them there.

It was a pleasant buzz, for certain. But something elusive felt just out of reach. 

This was not the riotous tide of feelings that Alya has described in frightening detail. 

And her courage had been hard won over the past few years.

As Ladybug, she would have courage enough for the pair of them. But the demands of that mask, had forced her to yield to her head not her heart. To selflessly meet the demands of the duty, for all people of the city.

But here in the darkness and shadows, she wasn’t the superhero. She was just a young woman -- one who could be selfish and greedy. She could demand more without risk.

Marinette let her fingers grow more daring, dipping beneath the edges of satin and lace. Tracing the soft underside of her breast and highlighting the progressively sensitive skin, until her thumb dragged across her nipple sending a frission of delight down towards her belly and drawing her full attention lower still.

Against the drafty night air, a patch of gooseflesh rose on her exposed skin. 

Gasping, she sought out warmth against the chill, dragging her fingertips lower. As one hand dipped toward the growing dampness between her thighs, the other lingered at her hip bone, massaging the soft skin. Her mind numbed in response to the the steadying pace of friction, the dizzying demand for satisfaction.

It wasn’t until her thumbnail scraped at her hip that she arched her back. Her imagination was flooded with another blonde with piercing green eyes, who balanced above her.

It was all too easy to envision that scratch as the prick of claws at her hips. 

“Chat,” she gasped, nearly able to see him pulling her towards him, hovering all too close. 

But still not close enough.

Marinette nibbled at her lip. Even if he’d never put it into words, Chat Noir’s actions were daily proof. He would readily have given her more, if she’d only asked. He would have given her everything he’d had to give, if she but turned his way.

And the temptation had been there.

But she knew, she would only matter to him as Ladybug.

Which at least wasn’t as hopeless as things with Adrien had been.

Marinette frowned, dancing dangerously close to that edge. She loathed the predictability. It was the only problem with trying to handle things on her own. 

She still had the presence of mind to know exactly what was coming, and relief lingered -- like the pair of blondes in her life -- just out of reach.

Maybe it was time to take Alya up on her recommendations to purchase a bit of...assistance. To keep herself from pulling herself out of the moment while release was so close.

With a groan, she bit her lip as her eyes slipped closed. Her other hand slipping beneath the bralette, ruthlessly applying a more variable pressure.

* * *

Chat Noir tensed, his eyes preternaturally wide. 

The room below was dark, too dark to see in any detail. But her call had been unmistakable to his keener ears. 

He knew Marinette’s voice all too well. Her soft laugh. The occasional hesitation. The surety and warmth that carried her through most of the day.

But this? This definitely sounded more like distress.

Popping the staff into his hands in one spinning, fluid motion, Chat Noir’s glowing green eyes gleamed. One gloved claw reached for the skylight window.

 _No one_ attacked his friends.

* * *

Chat dropped down, scanning the room as he descended down the baton, bypassing the stairs entirely. 

Down in the main area of the room, there was no obvious hint of an intruder. The room now silent and still. Even with the help of his transformation it was hard to see in the cozy space.

As his eyes quickly adjusted, he’d spotted more than a hint of pale skin bathed in moonlight.

Just before a pillow thwacked him in the face.

* * *

Marinette’s eyebrows hit the ceiling, tugging her blanket back up over her legs after she’d let the pillow fly. 

She had been close...so terribly close before that cat had dropped through her skylight like _a wrecking ball_!

It was almost as if she’d summoned him out of nowhere, on pure thought and feeling. And that was a fairly terrifying thought. Her voice rose half an octave in a hissed, half-hushed whisper as she peered down at him, glaring at his shadowed figure in the dark. “What are you doing here, Chat Noir?”

Blinking, he’d dragged the pillow off his face, glowing green eyes blinking in confusion. “I was on patrol nearby...and I could swear I’d heard you call my name.”

Marinette groaned at that, dropping her head back onto the other pillow. She _definitely_ had called out his name. 

“Sorry.” He murmured. “You sounded like you were in trouble...”

She’d snorted. “Oh, I was…”

* * *

Chat Noir frowned in confusion. 

“Look,” Marinette’s voice had a much harder edge than usual “If you're not going to help,then could you please leave.”

“I was trying to help.” 

Her laughter was choked. “Oh, kitty. You really weren’t.”

His hand dropped as he’d neared the bed, rising up on the extended baton still scanning the room for some sign of struggle he’d so obviously missed.

But the room was empty, except for Marinette -- and her brilliantly blushing face. A flush that only now as he was so close he could tell trailed down past her shoulders, to the bra that set askew far too loosely against her chest.

His eyebrows hit his hairline, as realization finally hit. 

What she must have been doing when he’d interrupted…

He’d spun around in place, sliding down the baton onto the pink rug, careful to avert his whole body to allow her almost as much privacy as she’d deserved. The blush burning his cheeks must have been as bright red as Ladybug’s suit, his claw covering his mouth to mask the soft gasp that escaped his throat. 

Marinette was always so sweet. He hadn’t ever thought that she might be doing this sort of thing.

That she might want to.

Chat Noir gulped. His shoulders tensed, as the rest of suit was growing more than the slightest bit uncomfortable as he’d remembered one nagging, little detail.

She’d been calling out _his_ name. Twice.

Well, his superhero side anyways.

* * *

“I-is that something you would want?”

Marinette blanched as she’d cuddled up under the covers, willing them to hide her away forever.

But oddly, her partner hadn’t gone running. And he hadn’t turned around either, once he’d realized she wasn’t...entirely dressed. The fact she could have that level of trust in him, even in her own skin was heady. “I'm not sure.”

Nodding, his eyes dropped to the floor. She knew that half-hearted smile all too well to take it for anything else but uncertainty and disappointment. 

He moved to leave.

“It's just...” Marinette grew wistful in the dark. She needed him to understand. “I've been in love with this guy...forever it feels like. And no matter what I do, he doesn't notice.”

* * *

Chat Noir shook his head before it was clear the room was too dark for her to notice the action.

He couldn’t imagine anyone truly failing to notice her.

“And I see my friends so happy. I can't help but want something like it for myself.”

He sighed. _That_ was a feeling he knew all too well.

“I’ll make you a deal, Marinette.” His claws tightened around the baton. “I can pop back outside until you are ready to...come and get me. And then we can...I dunno...even just play video games for a bit. I kind of know what loneliness feels like, and I hate to see anyone feel hurt.”

Marinette’s eyes widened, watching him carefully. Her cheeks were still a fetching pink even as she half hid behind the clearly pink comforter.

But already a slow, lazy smile lifted the edges of her lips.

“Sound okay?”

Her smiled gleamed through the dark. “Sounds _purrfect_.”

A stark blush on his cheeks between the pun...and a glimpse of her long, bare legs as she shed her covers, sent him scrambling up to the rooftop faster.

He would have just as much to conceal.

It was awkward for sure...and he'd have to calm himself down to be any use to her. To not embarrass her any further.

* * *

Marinette fretted, adjusting her clothes as she’d scrambled down into the kitchen. Tikki was still cuddled up beside the plate of cookies, watching in avid interest.

“I heard you had a visitor.”

Her palms pressed to her cheeks, willing her blush to die away. “What must he think of me now?”

Tikki’s eyes glowed softly in the dim kitchen light. “Marinette, that young man is your partner. You know better than anyone else how much you can trust him. If anything, the fact that I didn’t hear more than a pillow hitting the floor speaks very well of Plagg’s chosen. You and I both know you could take him if you had to.”

Marinette nibbled on a cookie. “But he still...dropped in at a rather inconvenient time. And I still need to be able to look him in the eye later.”

Tikki chuckled. “Ah. But _he_ still doesn’t know who you are beneath that mask, does he? That might have been far worse for him to have found out tonight. Especially considering, you already have been entertaining vaguely romantic notions about him.”

Marinette sighed. Maybe it was time to give him a bit more of a chance, to get to know him better...

At least, while she had more freedom as herself.

* * *

Chat Noir only half regretted his decision to stay and game with Marinette.

The chill in the air on the rooftop helped to calm him down -- but only a little. Just enough to not be perpetually and obviously re-adjusting himself in front of her.

It had been a mercy to his poor hormones that she’d covered nearly every square inch of skin.

Her extremely competitive nature was out in force as they were mostly evenly matched through the late night gaming session. 

When he'd played UMS3 with her all those years ago, she had been sweet -- in all possible senses. Warm and kind, gently spotting the flaws in his form and suggesting a few tips (not so much that he could defeat her). She’d even given him a good luck charm...not that she'd ever know just how partial Adrien was to those.

If there was ever a girl who might give Ladybug a run for her money...it might just be Marinette. The warmth of her thigh at his side. The pure mischief and delighted victory in her eye when she’d just edged him out to score a winning point.

All that not even considering the all too likely fact that she must have at least a tiny crush on his superhero side to be gasping his name into the night.

It was a heady picture. 

One that had made his scramble home in tight black leather a surprisingly unpleasant challenge.

But for the late hour -- and his growing discomfort -- he would still be there, sitting beside her at the computer desk until the earliest hours of the morning.

Pressing his head to the glass as he de transformed back at home, Adrien felt guilty.

Plagg chuckled. “I’ll give you a minute…”

Adrien grumbled, once again trying and failing not to picture the long stretch of moonlight pale skin now permanently burned into his too sharp eyes.

It was definitely going to be a bit longer than that.


	5. Whirlwind

The whole week had been a whirlwind. 

From the night Chat Noir had literally dropped through her window, Marinette had been far more anxious.

She had been hesitant and aloof around him as Ladybug, far more anxious that he might see past the mask to the vulnerable young woman who had been hiding beneath. 

It was bad enough when it was the one off errant dream.

But to have him hear her call out his name…

Even now, she was still blushing when she let herself recall.

To her surprise, that next very evening right after she had returned from patrol Chat Noir had dropped onto her balcony -- loudly and very careful to knock this time. 

He’d tucked up beside her in front of the desk, settling in for another gaming session. 

And if she’d gone down and snuck him some of the cookies she’d baked herself for Tikki, he neither noticed nor complained that they weren’t as good as her parents.

They played for hours, until her own shoulders started to cramp up. Wincing, she’d stretched and massaged her own aching muscles in her neck. 

* * *

When he’d returned home that night, Adrien scrambled around his room like a man on a mission, gathering an extra few things for tomorrow evening.

Plagg sighed into the Camembert Adrien had set in front of him. “This is going to become a regular thing, isn’t it?”

* * *

Ladybug raced home after Patrol the next evening, desperate to get inside and pretend to be busy before Chat Noir might show up.

It was bad enough that she actually did like him. It was a fact that she could no longer deny -- at least to herself. But if Chat realized that it was really Ladybug that had actually succumbed to his charms, well, there would literally be no dealing with him.

If time had taught her nothing else, it was that all encompassing safety issue never truly went away. 

She couldn’t imagine her life without Chat Noir in it, but she still couldn’t put her parents or her friends at risk.

* * *

Marinette made it back to her room with time to spare -- far more than she’d thought. She bit her lip, pacing the room and fretting. 

She’d even loaded up the Ladyblog to see if Chat Noir had been spotted out after patrol. Or had gotten injured on his way home.

She certainly hadn’t expected him to show up nearly an hour after she’d returned.

But she gaped as he certainly hadn’t returned empty handed. In his claws, were a top of the line gaming system and a much bigger screen than the one on her computer.

His grin was rueful as he’d slowly dropped down via his baton. “Since you were so hunched up yesterday, I thought it might be easier to get a bit of a better set up.”

Marinette thought she had been blushing in the wake of literally getting caught. Luckily, Chat had busied himself with the setting up and hadn’t noticed the deep pink burning her face.

How was it possible that such a sweet gesture possibly had her blushing even more?

After the system was set up, he’d handed her a controller, exceedingly careful about those claws. 

She tried not to look at him like he’d hung the moon, and probably failed, but if he noticed, Chat Noir never said a thing. Instead, they sat cuddled side by side on the chaise for some time.

He even managed to get in a few attacks.

Of course, her focus had been a little bit distracted by the reckless little grin that tugged at his lips.

The warmth of her partner nestled in beside her, his thigh continually and subtly warring with hers for the bit of space between them.

And the fact that his suit fit all too well.

When her head had slipped onto his shoulder, her own advantage seemed to have come back in force.

* * *

“Well,” Chat Noir grinned widely against a wince. “This is quite the handicap.”

She’d leaned into his shoulder long enough to leave him with that pins and needles sensation. Not that she was that heavy. He wiggled his fingers to keep from having to move. 

Her sleepy eyes opened just slightly, only to narrow as she processed his pun. 

“”Whatsmatter, kitty?” Marinette half purred, a little bit of mischief clear in her eyes. “Can’t handle little old me on a video game? I thought you were a superhero, after all…”

He blushed furiously as his thoughts took a decidedly different turn. Sputtering, he bit out. “You try this one handed.”

Marinette just smirked. 

Chat Noir tried not to notice after he raised his free arm in victory after he’d won that particular round. Only to find her eyes were clearly on him.

* * *

Marinette wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep...or when Chat Noir must have disappeared in the middle of the night.

But he had taken care to bundle her up with a comforter from her bed.

And he hadn’t taken the screen or the game system with him.

* * *

She had to run to make it home, but she didn’t get there before he did. Which meant she’d have to talk to him...to come up with some viable excuse for where she was before he’d caught her out.

“Sorry!” She gushed breathlessly, as she popped up through her rooftop hatch. “I fell asleep on the couch downstairs after sketching. Maman and Papa had me minding the shop while they had a delivery earlier and I didn’t realize I was that worn out.”

Chat smiled sweetly. He thought he’d been abandoned...or she’d forgotten.

Marinette smiled back, nodding at him to follow her inside. “Can I ask...if he you wanted this be a more regular...thing?”

He blinked slowly, watching her. “Would you mind if it I did?”

“Honestly?” She fidgeted under his too steady gaze. “Not at all. It’s just...I get busy sometimes...and my schedule isn’t always consistent.”

Chat Noir chuckled. “I think I can understand that.”

“I just...don’t like to think of you being so sad.”

“Hm?” He frowned, eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that look on your face when I came in, kitty.”

* * *

It was only after the second night that she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder that Tikki had started to press.

“You can’t keep avoiding this forever, you know?”

Marinette moped, dropping her pencil onto the desk. “I can try, can’t I?”

Tikki crossed her arms.

“I don’t know what to make of it, Tikki. It’s just really nice having him here.” 

“But _why_ is he here, Marinette?” Tikki prodded, sharp blue eyes narrowed. “Why did he come that night -- of all nights he might have visited?”

Marinette shrugged. “I’m just happy he didn’t stay away. Of course, it was a little awkward at first…”

TIkki shook her head. “I don’t mind you hanging out with him. In the long run, it is probably better that you understand him a little better, even if you don’t know more than the barest details of his life.” Her kwami sighed when she smiled. “That said, I do worry about how much you aren’t interacting with him as Ladybug.”

Her feet tapped the floor, absently spinning the desk chair slowly back and forth. “But Ladybug can’t be anything more. You said it yourself, Tikki. Being Ladybug is a big responsibility.”

Tikki blinked owlishly. “That is true...but--”

“But she can never drop that mask. I know.” Marinette murmured, a smile creeping across her lips. “But as Marinette? That is an entirely different story. Maybe a bit of your Ladybug luck sent him my way.”

* * *

After battle, it was a scramble to beat him home, dodging and weaving off her usual path to not be in his surprisingly long visual range. To dash downstairs and escape the curious stares of her parents as she’d gathered a few snacks.

Marinette fretted, hanging on the refrigerator door. 

She wasn’t entirely sure what he’d like. They never got to hang out all that much over the years -- in the mad dash between saving the city and scrambling away to keep their identities safe before they both turned into pumpkins.

In a rush, she decided on an assortment of fruit and cookies (for Tikki...mostly) and a little bit of croissant and cheese. 

This was far more team trust building than anything else, even if he didn’t know she was in truth his partner.

She would keep his secrets safe.

Just as he had for her, so many times over.

* * *

.

Chat Noir eyed the plate suspiciously. 

This was the part that he hated about the summer months now. 

Marinette frowned, fidgeting slightly as she reached for the plate. “Is something wrong? I can go back down and find something else if you need it.”

He gulped, shaking his head ruthlessly. His nutritionist would have his hide...to say nothing of Nathalie. She would ensure he’d have even more hours at the personal trainer.

Not that she’d ever had any idea how much his own muscles already ached in protest after a long night of patrol.

Chat sighed, mentally weighing just how much he could safely reveal. “I want to, really. I just _can’t_.”

Her piercing blue eyes were somber. “You can’t?”

His grew rueful before he’d forced himself to turn away, pacing the floor.

“Outside of the mask, I have a job...of sorts.”

She leaned back against her desk, arms crossed. “A physical one?”

“...Yes?”

“Chaton!” She frowned at him, her hands balled into fists at her hips. “You must be burning calories like crazy as Chat Noir. Why couldn’t you have just a bit of food?”

He blanched. In the past year, the summer line photoshoots had all basically asked him to keep shedding his shirt. It wasn’t like he had been slouching on the physical activity. But the photographers had been ruthless. After the one photographer had been _catty_ , Nathalie had been on him to cut back since the spring. Muscle definition was such a big deal for the swimsuit shots, and hanging out with his friends had let him slacking a bit more than he should. “I guess...I could have one.”

“You’re still worried…”

He blinked slowly. How was it that she was able to read him so clearly. “A little.”

She grinned, drawing a little bit too close for comfort, especially considering he hadn’t entirely gotten his hormones to put that one night out of his mind. She was a friend. It was why this his guilty conscience was plaguing him still. He had intruded upon her privacy without any real warning. 

Her fingers grazed close enough to his collarbone to graze the bell, which was all that was needed to snap his attention back to her. “One cookie won’t kill you. But if it bothers you too much...there’s always one surefire way to deal with the...problem.”

He grinned, half-daring her closer.

Marinette did not disappoint, drawing close to his ears -- the human ones -- uttering a single word that set him up straight.

His claws gripping the side of the chair, fighting to keep his composure. _Exercise_? She couldn’t possibly mean…

The errant thought left his suit far less comfortable than it had been only a minute before.

* * *

She stepped back a half step to snag a treasured cookie from the plate. A mischievous grin curved her lips between furtive bites. 

As often as he teased her, she had to give back as good as she got.

Marinette quirked up an eyebrow, trying not to make her naked regard obvious. Chat’s suit left far too little to the imagination. He was already shifting uncomfortably.

She spun on her heel, bouncing slightly as she moved towards the television screen to give him at least a few moments to himself. It certainly wasn’t her intention to make him suffer. Clearly his civilliain life wasn’t all that fun, if he was denying himself such simple, little pleasures.

Marinette nibbled her lip, feeling the warmth hitting her cheeks. It was immensely gratifying to know that she wasn’t the only one feel this tug of attraction. 

Whatever it was exactly. 

She didn’t dare name it. 

Chat Noir had told Ladybug all those years ago that he’d had feelings for her, when it had been lovely and confusing all at once. But her own feelings for Adrien -- her own hope -- left those waters murky for so long. 

The fact that he clearly felt something for her while she was _truly_ herself? To come and spend so much time here, even when she knew he had to be busy.

The sheer thought alone chased a shiver down her back.

Shaking her head, she snagged the pair of controllers. Lobbing one over her head blind, she knew he would catch it on instinct.

The thwack of plastic hitting leather just confirmed it.

Marinette grabbed him a macaron from the plate before she dropped back onto the chaise beside him. 

Chat blinked at the controller and then at her in confusion.

Smirking, she tapped her controller to his. “I figure this counts as working out, too.”

His lopsided grin was slow to form. “I like the way you think, Princess.”

But she’d been far too pleased when he’d accepted the macaron -- and his inevitable losses -- with all of his usual enthusiasm.

* * *

Sabine sighed, half-awake as she slowly padded towards the bathroom. Tom was already down in the shop, well before the sun and firing up the ovens and the first batches of the day. 

With a sigh, she noted the beam of light under the door. 

Marinette had been keeping very late hours for the past few weeks. She had to try very hard to keep from pressing her to take better care of herself, even if the odder hours were productive for her future. The piles of sketchbooks had been evidence of that.

Shaking her head, she headed towards the kitchen instead, willing herself awake.

The unmistakable sound of the UMS IV menu slowly sinking into her awareness. Tom and Marinette played it often enough for to doubt what she was hearing.

And then hearing again. And again. 

Frowning, Sabine recognized that it was playing on loop. Her daughter must have fallen asleep with the game menu open.

But that left her with a dilemma. 

She’d promised herself that she would make every effort to stay out of Marinette’s room. Not just because she was coming of an age that her privacy was becoming ever more important.

But there had been just too many coincidences. Too many late nights.

Too many days where Marinette was exhausted, even after she had gone to bed at a reasonable hour. Her lights were off when she’d headed to bed.

The bakery always took a lot of her focus to keep running smoothly, but she did make an effort for pay attention to her daughter. 

It just took a while to notice. But there was no mistaking the cookies disappearing from their day old stock. Tom had even noticed and started making just a few extra...only to find them disappearing as well.

They had feared rodents had gotten into the walls of the bakery, but the exterminator crew assured them they had found no evidence of it.

And Marinette seemed to not even gain a spare ounce that didn’t go into an extra inch or two in height. Or in maturing.

But her daughter was as slim and muscular as ever.

Shaking her head, Sabine headed up the ladder stairs as softly as she could manage. If Marinette was truly as busy as she had long suspected, she could use every good hour of sleep she could get.

Dim light perfused the room, making her just able to make out Marinette’s form, slumped over on the Chaise as she held the hatch door open.

She had been ready to sneak into the room to shut off the TV, when she’d realized that Marinette wasn’t the only one on that chaise.

Jaw set, Sabine closed the hatch and stole back down the stairs. 

Once again, Marinette hadn’t been entirely forthcoming with them about her late night visitor.

Sabine crossed her arms, gazing thoughtfully back up at the room above. She knew whoever it was hadn’t come up from downstairs. Tom would have mentioned if the door had been left unlocked. That really only left the one possibility.

And given their daughter had been saving the city, right beneath their noses all along, perhaps it was inevitable that she would find them both cuddled together on the chaise, fast asleep. 

Her brows furrowed. She and Tom both had been so sure that Marinette’s crush on the very polite Adrien Agreste would amount to more with time. The young man still had been sweet enough to pop into the bakery and ask after everyone, even if his manager wouldn't let him take the pile of sweets she had been trying to give to him -- on the house.

Considering they had been aware of the another boy who had been at her side for years, keeping her daughter safe...perhaps it shouldn't have come as such a big surprise.

One way or another, it it all seemed far too likely to come to heartbreak. 


End file.
